


My Only Sunshine

by Melbourne2627



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Charlie Bradbury, Castiel & Charlie Bradbury Friendship, Destiel - Freeform, Minor Charlie Bradbury/Jo Harvelle, Multi, Post-Apocalypse, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-03-31 19:44:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3990430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melbourne2627/pseuds/Melbourne2627
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years ago, the sun vanished from sight. The darkness came, bringing monsters with it. Sam and Dean find themselves alone and on the run throughout a desolate land, battling monsters for survival and hope. But a war needs more than two soldiers, and it will take more than the two Winchesters to bring light back into the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

_He was holding that small hand in his own, gently pulling him along as they ran through the meadows, laughing and shrieking with joy. The sun was so warm on his freckled face, and everything was bright and gold and wonderful._

Dean’s eyes fluttered open, and he was only the slightest bit disappointed to see only darkness. What had he expected? Dreams were dreams; memories were memories; reality was reality. He licked his chapped lips as though trying to remember what the sun tasted like, before scrambling to his feet.

He looked down at the bare patch of cracked cement beside him. “Sammy?” His brother was nowhere in sight. As his guts twisted around themselves, he pulled out his silver knife and stumbled out of the ramshackle shed into the fresh air.

“ _Sammy?”_ he asked again, this time in a whisper, in case any ears were listening in. He carefully stalked forward through the knee-high grass, trying to pick out anything in the darkness that moved against the wind.

He tread lightly, careful not to make a sound-even a crunch that was too loud could mean the end of him.

After a few more moments of silence, he heard a rustling behind him, disrupting the still silence of the air. Spinning around, he held his knife at the ready, prepared to stab, slash, and gouge-

But it was only Sam, wide-eyed and startled by the ferocity in Dean’s eyes. “Woah man, calm down-it’s just me.”

“I can see that, thank you. What the hell are you doing out here Sammy? I thought something had ganked you.” His guts were beginning to unravel, and his breathing was slowly becoming even again, now that he saw his little brother safe in front of him.

“I was just walking around. What are you even doing awake? It’s the middle of the night.”

“Is it? It’s impossible to tell these days, you know that.”

It was true; ever since the darkness had crept over the land years ago, it nearly always looked like night. The sun never shone; during the day, the clouds were so thick it was barely brighter out than it was at midnight. Once in a rare while, a thin patch of clouds would cross over, and Dean would get his hopes up- _maybe_ , just maybe, a ray of sunlight would break through, if only for a moment.

But he had long since stopped allowing himself to think so. The sun was dead- it only lived in his memories, in the days of his childhood where he and Sammy would run through fields and hills and woods, sunlight splattering their young, happy faces. But neither of them had smiled in so long, that Dean wasn’t sure they even remembered how. And as far as anyone knew, the sun would never shine again.

That wasn't the worst of it either-with the darkness had come… _things_ -monsters, demons, spirits-all those things that thrive in shadows and shrink away from daylight. Sam and Dean had stopped running from them long ago. At one point in their lives, sometime after they realized they were all alone, they decided that running away to survive was not enough. Sam remembered even less of the sun than Dean, but in a way that had made him even more desperate to see it.

And they decided that if these creatures came with the darkness, perhaps they _brought_ the darkness. And perhaps, if they hunted these monsters, and rid the land of them, the darkness would become moribund as well, and eventually even leave completely. Perhaps they could see the sun again.

But they had lived like this for years-traveling in the darkness, slaying anything they came across that was macabre or evil in its nature. And still the sun had not peeked through, had not even glimpsed at them to murmur “you are doing well; there is hope, keep going.”

They kept fighting anyways, though, because the other option was giving up, lying down their weapons and dying without ever seeing the sun again, and that was something they absolutely refused to do. If they died in the darkness, they would die with a knife or a gun in their hands, having fought to the last breath to bring sunlight again upon the earth. It was the only way they would go.

Dean was jerked back to reality by the hoot of an owl somewhere far above their heads. “Couldn’t sleep,” he added. “We may as well get going. I don’t like the sound of that goddamn bird.”

“I told you, it’s impossible to tell if an animal is Dark by the _sound_ it makes. It’s the eyes.”

“Well, I don’t plan on getting close enough to any of those bastards to see their eyes. And I say that bird sounds foul.”

Sam shrugged his shoulder. “Suit yourself. I’m pretty sure we’ve cleared this area out for the time being.”

Dean glanced up at the sky above them; whether there were any monsters left there or not, storm clouds still hid any stars from view.

* * *

 

After a few hours of walking, when the clouds had turned from black to a deep grey-blue, they emerged from the tangled woods into an open green field that seemed to sway in the wind.

“I don’t like this,” Dean said nearly immediately. “It’s too open. Anything could see us, and there’s no shelter.”

“Speak for yourself; I’m sick of the woods.”

Despite Dean’s fears, there was not a sound aside from the rustling of the grass; not a bird chirped, and everything was as in a state of still silence.

On the horizon, there was a line of deep gold-not glowing, of course, but it was still something yellow, and that was enough to greatly fascinate the brothers.

“What is that?” Dean asked warily.

“It looks like a field of wheat.”

“Wheat? Do you think someone actually _lives_ there?”

“Doubtful. It’s probably from a long time ago.”

“After this much time though, you’d think it wouldn't be growing anymore, or at least look a bit more, well, _dead_.”

“Hmm…”

As they got closer, there did, in fact, seem to be a small bit of light emanating from deep within, visible as a flicker between the stalks of wheat every once in a while.

When they arrived at the beginning of the wheat, the boys stopped and looked uncertainly at each other.

“I’ll go in and see what it is-you wait here,” Dean told his brother.

“There’s _no way_ I’m letting you go in there alone.”

“If it’s dangerous, I’m not dragging you in. If I need help, trust me, you’ll hear. I won’t go too far.”

Sam scrunched his nose. “Fine. But I still don’t like it.”

Cautiously, Dean parted the wheat and began carefully traipsing through, trying to make as little noise as possible. It didn't take long for him to realize that he couldn’t tell which way he had come, or which direction he was going. Suppressing his panic, he continued forward, towards the flicker of light that always seem'd ahead of him.

As he grew closer to the source, a hollow desperation clawed a place in his stomach; because all the light reminded him of was the sun, and he knew that when he reached it and found fire, or demonic work, or death, another fragment of him would break.

However, as he approached the light, he could not prevent that sliver of hope from surfacing in his heart. Slowly, and with many reservations, he reached forward and pushed back the last bit of wheat, and stepped forward into a small, circular clearing.

Except it wasn't a clearing at all, really; it was simply a circle of flattened wheat-a perfect circle at that. All around it stood more wheat, and Dean realized he must be in the very heart of the thing.

The only other thing, though, that was a bit of a problem, was that there was something-no, some _one_ , lying in the clearing.

His head was topped with a messy mop of dark brown hair, and he was clothed in a long, tan coat. The light, it seemed, was radiating from him, and it was certainly the closest thing that Dean had felt to sunlight in many years. The very air felt warm and welcoming, and Dean very nearly forgot all of his worries.

Cautiously, his hand gripping the knife concealed in his pocket, the boy stepped forward and knelt down beside the unmoving form; however, he had a feeling that whoever this was, they were not a threat to him-and that was not a feeling he had had in a very long time. He tenderly placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, and rolled him over onto his back. His face was pale and fair, and looked surprisingly young and peaceful-no older than Dean.

As Dean watched, his eyelids fluttered open, and Dean practically gasped. The boy’s eyes were the color of the sky on a sunny day, and seemed to emanate golden light as well as the rest of him. The boy, still lying on the crumpled wheat, looked up at Dean in shock.

“Who are you?” His voice was surprisingly gruff, considering how delicate he looked otherwise.

“I could ask you the same.”

“I’m…I’m not sure. I’m called Castiel. I fell from the sky.” He slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes with a clenched fist.

Green eyes met blue. “You fell from the _sky?_ ”

“Yes.”

“…”

“What is it?”

“This might sound a bit ridiculous, but, er, is there, well, anything past the clouds?”

The boy ran a hand through his hair and cocked his head-Dean couldn’t help but think of the owl he had heard earlier that night. “What do you mean?”

“Well, the clouds,” Dean gestured upward, and felt immediately like a moron. “Is there anything past them? Is it just clouds and darkness forever, or is there something…more?”

Castiel seemed to understand his question. He gave him a sad smile. “Is there a sun?”

Dean nodded, no longer meeting the boy’s eyes.

“Maybe. Honestly, I don’t quite know.”

“…are _you_ the sun?” Dean didn’t know why he asked it-maybe because the boy simply revoked memories of a happier time, or because he was glowing, or because his eyes were the sky.

Understandably, Castiel looked more puzzled than ever before. “Am _I_ the sun? I don’t know that either. I feel very warm, though. And the darkness seems not to affect me. Perhaps I am a part of it.”

“A sliver of sunlight,” Dean whispered, hardly believing his ears. Maybe all of the fighting and bloodshed was not in vain after all. Maybe somehow he and Sammy had _brought_ this boy here. A sliver of sunlight upon the earth. Maybe the clouds were getting thinner. And as Dean looked into the boy’s eyes, and watched his pale lips curve upward into a faltering smile, he was almost able to believe it.

“So who are _you_?” the sky-eyed boy asked him curiously, still sitting upon the ground.

“My name is Dean Winchester,” he supplied, finally relaxing his grip on his knife and joining the boy on top of the wheat. “My brother and I hunt the monsters that came when the sun hid away.”

“Why?”

“What’d ya mean?”

“Why do you hunt the monsters? For survival?”

“Partially, yes. But we’ve kinda taken it as our…well, our mission. To vanquish the goddamn things and…”

“And?”

“Call us crazy, but we think that the monsters brought the darkness with them, rather than vice versa. So we think that if we kill the monsters…”

“You can bring back the sun.”

Dean’s smile almost reached his eyes. “Yes.”

And despite the sheer impossibility of the mission he and his brother were faced with, as he looked at the stunning boy sitting beside him, Dean felt a part of himself click back into place. Maybe some broken things could be fixed.


	2. Chapter Two

Anxiety was already beginning to twist Sam’s stomach into knots the moment his brother disappeared into the field of wheat. The moment he was alone, it seemed as though every shadow was a ghoul and every crunch was some creature of the night stalking him. Sam had to keep reminding himself that it was day time, and even though it was still dark, some creatures were, in fact, inactive at the time.

Finally, the boy sat down in the grass, clutching his knife in his hand. He began to count the minutes.

_Eight…_

_Ten…_

_Thirteen…_

_Fourteen…_

He decided that if Dean took much longer, he’d go in looking for him-even though it would be all too easy to get lost in there. They might never find each other…it’d probably be better if he stayed put, in case Dean returned when he was gone and thought Sam had gotten attacked…

But his brother could be in danger. Whatever had caused that golden light could easily have been some new, dangerous type of monster. It could be maiming his brother right now.

Sam clambered to his feet, steeling his resolve. He was just about to plunge into the field, when he heard rustling coming from a few feet to his left.

Freezing, he watched the stalks of wheat twitching. Sam raised his knife, ready to attack the second a monster showed its face.

But the only face that appeared was that of his brother. Sam breathed a sigh of relief, and felt tears stinging his eyes. “ _Never_ do that ag-“

He broke off, staring. Leaning on his brother was a boy. A human boy. Sam couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a living human. He knew that had to be some out there somewhere, that they couldn’t be the only ones left. But as far as he could remember, he hadn’t encountered one since the sun went away.

The boy returned his cautious gaze, and his blue eyes seemed to penetrate Sam’s being. He shifted uncomfortably in place, still gripping his knife. In turn, he saw the boy’s hand move to the pocket of his long tan coat.

“It’s okay,” Dean said, but Sam wasn’t sure which of them he was reassuring. “This is my little brother, Sammy.”

“Sam,” he corrected sharply. “Dean, what the hell? Who is this?”

“This is Castiel. He caused the glowing light.”

“How? Where did he come from?”

“I came from the sky,” Castiel said wearily, running a hand through his messy dark hair. “The light was all around me. It’s mostly faded now…” He held the back of his hand up to his face for examination. Sure enough, if Sam looked closely enough, he could see a faint golden glow around the boy’s skin.

“What do you mean, you came from the sky?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that I came from up there,” he said softly, gesturing to the clouds. “I woke up in the middle of that field, surrounded by light. And then your brother found me.” The boy began to sway on his feet, and leaned more heavily on Dean.

Sam’s brother looked at him in concern. “I think you need to rest. Let’s find some shelter.”

* * *

 

Fortunately, they didn’t have to walk terribly far, but by the time they found the door to what looked like an underground bunker, Dean was carrying Castiel on his back. The boy was scrawny and fairly light, but after a few minutes Dean’s neck began to get sore.

“Do you think it’s safe?” Sam asked cautiously, eyeing the padlocked metal door.

“Dunno. Worth a try though. I mean, I don’t know of many monsters that know how to pick a lock.”

“Mmm.”

Sam reached out a hand to Dean. “Do you have your lock picker on you?”

Dean dug in his pocket, careful to maintain a hold on the boy. “Here.”

It took Sam a good five minutes of fiddling with the lock before he had managed to get the door open. Castiel was already half asleep, his brown head resting on one of Dean’s shoulders.

Sam tried turning on the flashlight, but it merely flickered and went out. “Damn. That was our last battery…we’ll have to find a town soon. Batteries are a tough find but we might be able to scavenge some.” He flicked open his lighter, which only cast a small light onto the steep steps before him. “Careful,” he advised Dean, pulling out his knife again.

“Sammy, maybe I should go first.”

“Don’t be an idiot. You have Castiel on your back.”

“Just don’t let anything get you.”

“Trust me. Most monsters aren’t sneaky. Besides, if there’s anything down here, it’s probably asleep.”

“Put me down, Dean,” Castiel said suddenly, in a voice heavy with exhaustion.

Dean looked dubious. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

He carefully placed the boy on his feet, and allowed him to lean against his shoulder for support. Slowly, he raised a hand from his side and pointed his palm at the bunker entrance. A faint blue light emanated from his palm, and Dean saw with shock that his blue eyes now seemed to be glowing. As soon as it came, the light faded, and Castiel leaned even more heavily on Dean.

“There’s nothing down there. Nothing evil, at least.”

Sam looked apprehensive, but Dean simply shrugged. “Let’s go for it, then.”

“Your call,” Sam said, and vanished into the darkness in front of his brother. Dean slung Castiel’s arm over his shoulder and followed.

 

“This place is _amazing_ ,” Sam exclaimed, looking around them in delight. The space was a bit on the small side, no bigger than about half of a classroom, but it seemed to contain all the necessities-there were non-perishable foods, piles of books, a supply of candles and matches, blankets and pillows, and a chest of drawers full of clothes and weapons. In one of the cabinets, behind the cans of food, Sam found a large container of salt. “It’s like a hideout made for hunters!”

“We should be careful then,” Dean said, helping Castiel into a rickety chair. “They might be back, and hunters have a nasty tendency to shoot first, and ask questions later-give me that.” He took the salt from sam, and poured a line across the bottom of the stairs.

“We need to add some sigils,” Sam observed, looking around. “There’s a devil trap under the rug, but that’s it.”

“I can do that,” Castiel volunteered wearily, attempting to clamber to his feet.

“Hey. Worry about that after. For now, you need to rest. You’re no good to us in that state.” Castiel collapsed back into the chair without a complaint.

“Is there any paper in here?” He asked softly. “I can write down the sigils for you, and you can copy them. Some of them need to be done in blood, though,” Castiel added.

“Not a problem,” said Dean, reaching into one of the desk drawers and grabbing a notepad and pen. “Just tell me which ones.”

* * *

 

“Are you sure about this?” Sam asked quietly, glancing over at Castiel’s sleeping form as Dean began scrawling the sigils on the door.

He didn’t look up from his work. “What d’ya mean?”

“I _mean_ , do you really think we can trust him? This whole situation is really sketchy. For all we know, he could be a demon.”

“I don’t think so,” Dean said, also glancing at Castiel. “I know this is probably gonna sound crazy, but when I saw him I just had this feeling that he good be trusted. Like he was something _good_. Actually, there’s an idea I have. It might sound just as crazy. But I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Yeah?” Sam asked, raising his eyebrows.

“You know how we think if we kill enough monsters, the sun will come back, little by little? What if he’s the result of that?”

“You think he’s the sun?”

“No, no. Just…maybe he’s part of it. He was glowing golden when I found him. It was the closest thing to sunshine I’ve seen in years. Maybe…maybe all this work we’ve been doing hasn’t been for nothing. Maybe there’s still hope.”

Once Dean finished painting the sigils, he sat down on the floor across from Cas’s chair, where the boy was still sound asleep. And although he was no longer emanating light, he still seemed to Dean the brightest thing in the room.

* * *

 

**_A/N: Sorry this was so short, but I’ve really been meaning to update this story so I just wanted to add something. There should be more action next chapter. Thanks for the support, and feedback would be absolutely wonderful._ **


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